A Place In This World
by Quality-of-Mercy
Summary: Bridger takes Lucas, Hitchcock, Dr. Westphalen, Ford and Krieg to spend shore leave on his island. Once there, they get caught in a storm and find themselves trapped on the island. Little do they realize that that is the least of their worries...
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: Set in early season 1. This is my take on an ELF. I'd like to point out that English isn't my first language, so I apologize in advance for any grammar and spelling issues. I hope you enjoy the story and if you do take the time to read it, please also take a few seconds to review and let me know what you think. It would mean a lot to me to hear from you and I do accept anonymous reviews. **

**Disclaimer: SeaQuest is the property of Amblin Television and Universal Television, and was created by Rockne S. O'Bannon. Any original characters and the plot are the property of the author. No profit is being made from this story. **

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

It was late evening and it would have been too dark to see in the small room, had it not been for a soft moonlight that chased away the night and sent ghostly shadows dancing on the walls. It was a slow and silent dance, but it kept the boy in the bed wide awake, teasing and haunting him with their illuminating presence. Even though the sun had long ago been forced to surrender to the night sky, the evening was still hot and humid and carried a silent hint of the coming day's heat. The boy sighed, slowly dragged himself out of bed and walked towards the veranda. The old wooden floor felt cold against his bare feet and he brushed a strand of damp, blond hair out of his eyes. He stood quietly on the veranda for a little while and watched how the sea and sky merged in perfect harmony, blending together at the horizon in the far distance. The soft evening breeze carried the soothing melody of waves crashing onto a sandy beach, and scents of salt and wild flowers swirled around him, captured and calmed him. The boy closed his eyes and wondered how life around him could appear so peaceful when so much inside him was hurting and in turmoil. He couldn't shake the feeling of being out of tune with the world, of being the one standing on the outside looking in.

His parents noticed early on that he wasn't like other children his age. He learned to read when he was at the tender age of three and always had an aptitude for math, a natural talent rarely seen in a boy so young. When other children were busy reciting the alphabet, he was already a voracious reader, losing himself in written worlds and devouring everything from Robinson Crusoe to the works of Shakespeare. He was labeled a child prodigy and a genius, but most of all he was misplaced, misunderstood and lonely. His superiority made him a reluctant rebel and his teachers eventually grew tired of the attention his intelligence demanded but he himself never really asked for, and he was recommended to skip a few grades and move straight to high school. He graduated high school early and went on to college as a young teenager, something he had been looking forward to since starting school. For him, going away to college would mean finally being able to trade loneliness for companionship. It would mean finding a place where he could talk and not just speak, a place where his voice would be heard and not just silenced. He would be where he was supposed to be and for the first time in his short life he would feel that school was something more than just a place where he bored and dejected had to check and re-check his watch to see the sweep hand move as slow as dripping honey on a cold winter's day. Coming there would be like entering a new kind of world entirely, like being given the keys to a kingdom with unlimited opportunities and possibilities. A brand new start. But the fairy tale ended somewhere between a child's wishful dreams for a happier future and walking into class the morning of his very first day. Much too soon he found out that it didn't really matter that he was just as smart as his classmates and had every right to be there, because all they saw was his young age. You can spend your early years sitting in a room surrounded by people who look just like you but your mind is somewhere far, far away, way ahead of you, and when you finally get a chance to catch up with yourself, to travel to that place, you just find yourself searching the room for an empty seat. Another incomplete verse in the song of his life, another verse torn by strife.

He had been wanting to find acceptance among his college peers but instead found that the more he tried to fit in, the more he stuck out as someone who tried to act older than he actually was. He had seen a boy who desperately wanted to belong to something, but that something never really opened its doors to him, no matter what he did or didn't do. His father, a notable and successful scientist with a fine reputation, had seen a boy desperately in need of discipline, on the verge of spinning out of control. Determined to set him on the right course again, he pulled some strings and managed to get him stationed on seaQuest, the submarine that patrolled and explored the ocean. It was easy for his father to see it as a necessary solution to a dire situation. It was just as easy for his son to see it as yet another rejection, yet another closed door that threatened the future he was trying to achieve while it reminded him of the past he was trying to escape. At eight, he learned just how soothing it could be to bury your face in a pillow when your parents had forgotten your birthday. If no one saw the tears, perhaps he could pretend he wasn't sad. At eleven, he learned just how easy it was to turn away when someone said you were a nobody. If no one saw the wound, perhaps he could pretend he wasn't hurt. At fourteen, he learned just how comfortable it could be to stand in the middle of a crowd, even if the crowd didn't want you there. If no one saw him alone, perhaps he could pretend he wasn't lonely. At sixteen, he knew everything about bending, twisting and polishing lies, until eventually they shone so bright they could be passed off as truths. At sixteen, he knew everything about dry tears, invisible scars and imaginary friends.

When rejection becomes your unwanted acquaintance you start to assume you must be doing something completely, unfathomably wrong and slowly but surely a seed of doubt will start to linger and grow inside your mind, clouding your vision and taking away your light and eventually it will blossom into full-blown darkness. He kept trying but each time his attempts ended in failure he felt hope slowly dwindle away and self-doubt quickly take hold. The bridges he so desperately had attempted to build turned into walls instead and he excelled in hiding behind them. Unreachable. Untouchable. Unharmed. He had spent his first few weeks on seaQuest putting up more walls, shielding himself with sarcasm and pushing people away while secretly wishing for them to come back. The child within still lingering, searching for a lost voice, searching for a lost memory of a fairy tale holding a happier ending.

So once again he stood there, with the same old song ringing in his ears; Too young to be old, too old to be young. He ran his fingers through his hair and felt the soft wind in his face; A sweeping, whistling veil that wrapped him in invisible warmth. The beach was still the epitome of calmness, stillness and serenity, but in the distance, far away and beyond the safety of the veranda, the winds were slowly changing, turning into something a little more chilly and viscous. A small yet unmistakable indication of tension lingered in the dark night and it crept slowly closer to shore. Had the boy known that the stillness of the night would soon turn into something much more frightening he might have stayed out there for a little while longer, relishing the calm before the storm, breathing the clean air and admiring the power of the ocean. But Lucas turned around, went back into the room and let the doors close behind him, like they've done so many times before. The song of history echoing in the night...


	2. Chapter 1

_I'm sorry for taking so long to update this story, life has been hectic. I haven't forgotten about the story though and I plan to see it through. I want to thank all of those who took the time to review, subscribe to and favorite the prologue, or teaser if you like. It meant a lot. Also, many thanks to my beta-reader, TattooedLibrarian, for getting back with me so quickly and for taking the time to read and edit this first chapter. So, the story starts here. Hope you enjoy and please read and review. _

**Annapolis, December 2002**

For the past year he had been carrying his umbrella to work. He had carried it religiously like a bible, like a shield ready to be used in battle. His wife would mumble something about obsessive compulsive behavior, shake her head and pour hot, boiling coffee into a mug that was never big enough to wake him up in the morning. During that one year, he never once had to use that umbrella. It stayed carefully snuggled in his bag, a silent reminder that his life was as dry as the unused umbrella, as stale as this tiring routine. Then came last evening, and in the midst of hospital visits, police reports and a dreamless, restless night, when the time came to leave for work, he had left with his coffee unconsumed on the kitchen table and his umbrella untouched in the drawer. So according to Murphy's Law, it was thus perfectly natural that his wife would come home that evening and find him soaking wet in the kitchen. The rain had started to fall from a grey sky five hours ago and for the rest of the town it would be over by nightfall. For him, it would never really stop. She walked carefully across the kitchen room floor, like she was approaching a small and frightened child. The rain was still beating hard against the window pane, a persistent intruder in the cold, chilly winter night.

"So what did they say?," she asked carefully, her voice soft and tender, almost broken, as if the question was a burden too heavy to carry.

"They told us not to worry. Apparently we're perfectly safe, everything is proceeding as planned and they've got everything under control. They said everything. And nothing. I should've told them to cut the bureaucratic crap and tell it like it is instead of throwing around words that sound pretty but mean damn nothing" He buried his head in his hands, his voice tinted by bitterness and resignation and every shade of hopelessness. She sighed and sank down in the chair next to him, water dripping from her wet, blonde hair onto the kitchen table.

"Nathan, I can't live like this anymore. I can't live _here_ anymore. I really haven't been sleeping in weeks. I just lay awake at night, thinking every creak is him opening a door and slipping in. I feel like I'm being watched in my own house, and people look at me like I'm losing my mind and sometimes…Sometimes I wonder if they might be right. Maybe I am going crazy" Her voice died out in the end, like a small flame slowly losing oxygen.

"You're not going crazy, sweetheart, don't even think that." He sighed and ran a hand through wet hair and for a short moment he was sure it was thinner than it had been last night, like he had suddenly aged twenty years in just twenty hours. "Look, I'll see what I can do about getting us out of here for a little while. We can take a vacation; get away from this damn place for a couple of days." He emptied the glass he was holding and shuddered, feeling the fire burn as it went down, just barely driving away the cold, frozen feeling of impending doom that had surrounded him ever since the terror last night.

"I like the sound of that," she said and managed a soft smile, but the smile never reached her eyes which seemed impossibly locked at a point somewhere between here and infinity, her body still stiff and tense like a wire stretched too far, ready to burst at any second.

They stayed as they were for a moment, listening to the rain wash away the snow of yesterday's storm and the glow of tomorrow's new day. Their silence was deafening and loud as thunder, a million little words in a never-ending sentence of unspoken anguish. The silence hung heavy in the air like an invisible mantle, threatening to suffocate anyone who dared to challenge it. Eventually, he took the bet and learned forward, kissing her cheek gently and carefully.

"You have my word: He'll never come near us again," he whispered quietly and drew her in, hoping that the action spoke louder than the words.

But late at night, as she lay wide awake watching the curtains blow in front of the closed windows, feeling the cold surround her in the warmth of the blankets and hearing the silent footsteps in the empty house, she knew she didn't believe him.

**Yucatan, 2018**

"Nathan?"

The elderly man stopped in his tracks on the warm pier, heated by the last few glittering rays of a late afternoon sun, and turned abruptly to face the voice behind him. He squinted against the bright glare of the sun, trying to make sense of the fuzzy face before him, racking his brain for any clue to who the voice could belong to.

"Well, I'll be damned, Nathan. Never thought I'd see you back here. And you sure picked the right time, didn't you?"

"Henley". The memory came rushing back to him like a tidal wave, like a punch to his stomach, and he fought the urge to turn around or duck away or do anything that would avoid a conversation doomed to end in misery. The man before him took a few puffs of a cigar and nodded towards a group of people standing at the end of the pier, curiously observing their conversation. "Those are the people you picked to be your crew?," he remarked with a slight smirk as he watched a dark-haired woman hit a man with an oar and a blonde boy with shaggy hair look at her with wonder, nervously toying with his jersey and almost tripping on his own two feet in the process.

"They're here for a reason, Henley. They're the best in their field".

"And that includes the kid that looks like he's just out of kindergarten?"

"That _kid, _as you wish to call him, happens to be a magna-cum-laude graduate of Stanford University," said a crisp voice behind them. "A most brilliant young man, if I may say so," added Dr. Kristin Westphalen, walking up behind them carrying a bag and a bottle of water. Her fiery hair was blown about by the soft, playful wind, her skin kissed by the heat of the last fading afternoon rays of the sun. "Nathan, I don't know about you but I think we are all ready to take the boat to your island now. Ford, I believe, is developing a serious headache. Apparently we're fifteen minutes off schedule." A quick sparkle in her eyes was all that gave away the humor behind her words.

"Schedule? I didn't know we had one." Nathan let his gaze wander from Kristin to his Commander, standing at the end of the dock handling out directions to a blushing Lucas, a bruised Krieg and an annoyed Hitchcock. He smiled to himself and allowed his hand to gently touch Dr. Westphalen's arm, hoping she wouldn't notice the slight tremble in his hand. "Go on, go join them. I'll be there in a sec." As he watched her leave he once again turned to face Henley who was shaking his head, smiling on the outside but most likely cursing on the inside.

"Well, I guess there's nothing I can say to convince you to not go back there, Nathan. Old ghosts are hard to get rid of, you know. Especially at this time of the year." Henley was standing so close that he could feel the stinging scent of smoke that hung in the air mixed with the burning, earthy smell of bourbon.

"I've moved on, Henley."

Henley's voice was uncompromising, harsh but not accusing as he replied, "Maybe so, but _he_ hasn't."

Nathan just shook his head as he started to walk down the dock. "I don't need this, Henley. Now, if you excuse me, I'm on shore leave and I plan to enjoy myself with my new crew."

Henley carelessly threw his cigar butt on the ground and stepped on it, as he watched Nathan and his crew set off into the distance, their boat just a tiny speck of white on the deep blue, glistening ocean, the fading sun just a flicker of light on a gloomy, grey horizon.


	3. Chapter 2

Thanks to everybody who has read the story so far. I hope you enjoy! And again, many thanks to my excellent beta TattooedLibrarian.

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><p><strong>Nathan's island, near Yucatan, 2018. <strong>

Lucas held a hand to his stomach, feeling it grumble, groan and growl as a loud and impatient demand for food that was long overdue. They had arrived to Bridger's island about an hour ago and to Lucas it was like stepping into one of those adventure movies he used to watch religiously as a young child, wide eyed and mouth agape. The sun warmed sand felt soft and good to his naked feet and the cool wind and calm breeze was like a tender caress, a gentle whisper in the silence of the early evening hour. It was so different from his hometown of Buffalo, where silence was an unknown and unused language, impossible to learn in the never ceasing crowd of everybody and anybody. Now silence was all he heard and it was like a soft, soothing song lulling him into a still sense of tranquility. The island was bigger than he had imagined, with a wooden house situated on a sandy, golden beach with mountains and palm trees rising behind it as far as the eye could see. A burning ball of blinding red fire sank behind the tree line, painting the landscape with colors of purple and the remnants of a fleeting summer day.

Lucas sighed and sank deeper down into his kitchen chair. He was suspicious of the items he held in his hands, but he still clutched them tightly, like a baby clinging to his favorite blanket. When Kristin asked him if he could put up some string lights on the patio he had jumped on it instantly. He was pleased with anything that made him feel useful, that made him more than just the burden he always felt like, but now, as he held the tiny lights in his hands, he wasn't so sure anymore. The lights looked old, almost antique, slightly torn and weather-worn, as if they hadn't been used in years and Lucas silently and apprehensively wondered if they were safe to use.

"Where do you want these, Captain?" He held up the bundle of lights and turned around in his chair, "Outside on the patio or sent back to the 60s where they rightly belong?" He raised an eyebrow as he eyed the captain and a playful smile was starting to form on his lips.

Nathan rolled his eyes and pointed towards the patio "Get on it, Lucas. We don't have all day," he said sternly, but let a small chuckle escape as he started preparing the meat for the grill and the vegetables for the salad.

Kristin watched the boy trying to untangle the lights from their numerous knots and tousles and leaning in closer to Nathan she whispered "Excuse me for a minute while I go and check on the grill," she paused and lowered her voice even more, "I'm a little apprehensive about leaving Krieg with a lighter and fuel. You never know what – or who – he might set on fire," she said, rolling her eyes and sighing while holding back a half-smile.

"Why do you think Katie and Jonathan are out there watching him like a hawk?" he asked while pointing his thumb over his shoulder at his crew standing on the patio. They both grinned at this, and Kristin let her arm carefully slip around his waist but quickly retracted it when she noticed him stiffen, not returning the sudden but tender act of affection. On her way out she passed Lucas, who triumphantly held up the now untangled string of lights.

"If Krieg hasn't managed to set something on fire yet, give him these," he said with mock horror, "chances are they are going to catch on fire as soon as you plug them in", he added sarcastically at her quizzical gaze, still being suspicious of the old-fashioned lights with their antique look. "If we're lucky we'll live through the night", he joked and ducked when he saw a piece of cucumber coming flying through the room from Nathan's direction.

"Boys." Kristen muttered under her breath as she grabbed the lights from Lucas' hand, once again shaking her head as she exited the kitchen.

A calmness settled in the room and as Lucas registered the rich and summery smell of marinade, making his stomach growl in response, he felt the familiar feelings of sadness well up inside his chest, like ripples in a stream. On the boat he could do magic with just a few lines of code and open doors to new worlds with just a click of his finger. Behind the screen he knew the spells to all things possible. But here, stripped of all technology, he felt like a soldier without his word, like fire without flames. He silently wondered when he would crack the code of friendship and why it always seemed to rewrite itself as soon as he learned the language. He so badly wanted to make the Captain proud, to show his father that he wasn't as bad as he believed him to be and to be more than just a child in a world of grown-ups, but how do you prove yourself worthy to a captain who has seen it all and how do you make yourself visible to a father who never saw you in the first place and how in the world do you ever learn to play the part of a role you never even read the script for?

Lucas suddenly looked up and turned to face his Captain.

"Who was that man you were talking to earlier? Before we left for your island," he asked and slowly rubbed his hands together, unsure if the question was appropriate but too curious and intrigued to take much notice.

Nathan turned around and froze on the spot, as if the question had been a shot that momentarily paralyzed him.

"Henley? He was a good friend of my wife's. You remember the small village we drove through before we came to the harbor? Well, he has lived there for as long as I can remember. Carol and I used to go there on vacation every chance we got."

Nathan walked across the kitchen floor and took a seat next to Lucas. Leaning forward, he put his hands on knees, keeping the tone of his voice quiet and calm.

"Many years ago, Carol, Robert and I experienced some difficulties and we needed to get away for a while. Henley was the one who recommended this place, this island, and I suppose it became a sort of shelter for us, for various reasons." Nathan's voice trailed off, he shifted in his seat and for a moment he looked as if he was about to say something more but decided against it.

Lucas was listening quietly and respectfully. He knew about Carol, how she had died too young and how her death had affected the Captain. He silently wondered what kind of difficulties had prompted them to get away and so far away, but he kept quiet, not wanting to pry or upset the Captain.

"I haven't talked to or visited Henley since-" Nathan took a deep breath, as if reluctant to speak the next words to come out of his mouth, "Since Carol passed away. We lost touch over the years and quite frankly, I think part of him always blamed me for Carol's death and for…Well, I believe he blamed me for a lot of things regarding Carol. To tell you the truth, it was rather bittersweet to see him today."

"But why is he blaming you? I mean, Captain, you did everything you could to save her."

"I was never certain and I spent years questioning myself, Lucas. Could I have realized she was ill sooner? Could I have taken her to the hospital quicker? Wasn't I attentive enough? Henley, I believe, asked the same questions. I know today that I did everything I could, but sometimes everything isn't enough and you are always left wondering.

Lucas flashed back to a crystal cold December night over ten years ago. He was five years old, it was his birthday and the day before Christmas Eve. He was standing on a lone porch somewhere in a snowy Buffalo, holding the hand of a stranger he had forgotten the name of. It was one of those crisp, ice-cold nights, when the falling snow fell apart in your hand like dust in the wind and the hairs in your nose froze and you could barely recognize the scents of cinnamon and mulled wine from the neighborhood houses. He watched his parents hurry past him, carrying suitcases and laptops and heavy coats, their shoes crunching in the hard-packed snow, their waves of goodbye and the small words of "we'll see you in a couple of weeks darling". Christmas was his favorite time of the year. Not because of the presents or the food or the snow, but because it was the only time of the year he was allowed to spend a day with his parents. But this year they were leaving, off to a conference in Genève they said. It was important and essential and oh-so crucial to their research and they were sure he would understand. He had done everything in his power to make them stay. He had begged them, promised them he would be good, and promised he wouldn't disturb them. Everything. But here he still was, ice-cold hands clutching a teddy bear on a lone porch somewhere in a snowy Buffalo, watching their silhouettes fade like shadows at dusk as they rounded a corner and were gone in a heartbeat. He was frozen to the bone, but he still remembered how he fought against a flood in his eyes and the taste of salt in his mouth as he lost the fight. The Captain was right, sometimes everything wasn't enough and he spent his whole childhood wondering why.

The feeling of someone carefully rubbing the back of his neck brought him back to reality and he flinched, not used to that kind of affection and attention.

"Are you all right, Lucas? You seemed a million miles away." Deep brown eyes searched his for an answer and he managed a smile and nodded his yes.

"Yeah, I was just thinking about this island. How long do you reckon it would take to hike around it? And, um- what do you think is hidden on the other side of it?" He tried to sound interested, as if he was genuinely curious. As if the question was genuinely his.

Nathan had a look of surprise, mild disbelieve and slight bemusement on his face. "Hidden? And I didn't know you were interested in hiking, Lucas".

Silence.

"Why don't you tell Ben that there's most likely nothing at all on the other side of the island and there's most definitely not any gold, diamonds or fairy-tale treasures hidden there."

Busted.

Nathan's smile faded a little and he looked serious for a while. "Really, Lucas. I tried to hike around the island once but the terrain is rough, dangerous and challenging. No matter what Ben or anyone else tells you, I want you all to stay here on the beach, okay?"

Lucas picked up on a certain urgency and firmness in the Captain's voice and quickly nodded.

"Curiosity killed the cat and all that, huh"

Nathan tapped the tip of the boy's nose. "Something like that".

He then smiled and proceeded to put an arm around his young computer whiz, leading him towards the patio. "Come on, let's get this barbecue rolling, Lucas. Your stomach tells me you've waited long enough". Sighing, he mumbled "and let's go see how much damage Krieg has done with the lighter and how badly Katie, Kristin and Jonathan need the fire extinguisher." He raised an eyebrow in mock-seriousness and they both shared a smile before walking out to join their crew mates.

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><p><strong>AN:** The story is slightly AU in the sense that in my story, Nathan moves to the island together with Robert and Carol whereas in canon he moves to it after the passing of Carol.

I'm focusing on building the story and the characters here in the beginning but there will be more action later on, for those of you who like that.

Thanks to everybody who has reviewed and commented on the story. It's much appreciated.


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